The Best of Birthdays
by ChelsieSouloftheAbbey
Summary: A birthday fic for the lovely, amazing Hogwarts Duo! It's Charles Carson's 70th birthday ... however should they celebrate?


**A/N: This is a birthday fic for the LOVELY Hogwarts Duo, or chelsie-carson on tumblr! If you know anything at all about her, you'll understand immediately that this entire fic had to center around Charles Carson's birthday. MWAH - I hope you enjoy this little bit of Chelsie fluff, my dear friend!**

 **Thanks are owed to chelsie fan and dameofdownstairs, for proofreading and for the image that graces the cover of this story.**

 **Please read and enjoy, drop me a wee review, and head on over to tumblr to wish her a very Happy Birthday!**

 **xx,**

 **CSotA**

* * *

As she waited for her husband to arrive at the Abbey for his meeting with Mr. Barrow, Elsie Carson found herself, once again, planning an elaborate fête. Well, perhaps not so _elaborate,_ but certainly one of importance. But as she scanned her list of 'guests', numbering twenty-six, she began to have second thoughts. What if the record albums they'd ordered didn't arrive in time? What if someone fell ill? What if she couldn't convince Charles to be at the Abbey that day? What if Lady Grantham requested a change of venue at the last minute? What if Mr. Barrow found himself needing certain wines which would not be able to be obtained in time? What if there were problems with the food?

That last one actually made her laugh, and she shook her head at how ridiculous she was being. _As if Beryl Patmore will have any snags regarding food for_ _ **this**_ _party. It'll be her last one, after all._

Elsie smiled and shook her head as she placed her checklist back in its hiding place – tucked away in her old copy of _The Invisible Man_. There was no way on Earth Charles would ever even touch that book, let alone open it and find the details for his surprise party.

Her wonderful, beloved husband was turning seventy, and Elsie had plans – BIG plans. It was no garden party, no social event of the Season, but she was more nervous about this party than she'd ever been about any of those. This one was personal, for a number of reasons. She needed Charles to feel how much he was still appreciated by the family; she needed him to find a reason to celebrate, as it had become clear over the past three months that Mr. Barrow was requiring his assistance less and less as the weeks went on; but most importantly, she needed him to be ready to embark upon a full retirement, because that was the biggest surprise she had for this entire event: everyone knew that when he turned seventy, Charles Carson would be _fully_ retired from Downton Abbey. What no one except Lord and Lady Grantham, Beryl, and Miss Baxter knew was that his wife would be retiring right alongside him.

Elsie spared a moment to worry that he'd be upset she'd not confided in him about it, but she brushed it aside quickly; Charles had made no secret of the fact that he would be lonely in the days when he'd be home at the cottage all day and not at the Abbey with his wife. She knew he'd be thrilled that she was hanging up her chatelaine at last. Just the thought of what that would mean for them – days walking hand-in-hand to town, taking the time to stop and sit or visit with friends as they desired; nights spent turning in early and waking slowly in one another's arms – had her beaming for the rest of the day as she made her way through her afternoon rounds.

 _You have six days, Elsie … hold yourself together until then, lass._

* * *

Charles woke up on his birthday, rolled over, and groaned as his back cracked loudly. The snigger from his left side caused him to reach out and lightly tickle its source, and Elsie's surprised laugh made him smile brightly as he leaned over and kissed his wife good morning.

"Happy Birthday, love," she murmured against his lips. "I see your body is rebelling against you!"

"Very funny, Mrs. Carson. You know full well that it's a symphony of creaks and cracks every time we _both_ get up from this bed," he teased.

She rolled over and tucked herself up against his side, humming when he wrapped his arms around her.

"I ask you, did you ever think this is how you'd wake up on your seventieth birthday?"

Charles ran his hand up and down her disrobed torso. "What, you mean alongside my beautiful wife, the woman I've been in love with for thirty years or more? Don't be silly – of course I knew."

She laughed warmly as she raised herself up on one elbow and ran her fingers through his unruly, wavy hair. "I do love you so. And it's quite early still – we're not needed at the Abbey until nine this morning."

Charles peeked out the window as the sun began to send pink hues through the hedges outside. "It looks as though it will be a beautiful day. Perhaps an early-morning walk is in order?"

"A walk?" she smirked. "On your birthday?"

"Why not?" he retorted. "I'm going to have to get used to taking longer walks with all the time I'll have to use up when you're at work every day."

The mischief in his eyes told her he wasn't being completely serious, but she did hear the melancholic tone in his voice nonetheless. "I wasn't thinking of a walk, dear."

"No?" he asked hopefully, the mischief now spreading over his entire face.

"No," she replied, slowly lifting her leg and draping it across both of his. "I rather thought we might cuddle here for a bit," she added, a smirk playing about her lips.

"Here? In bed?" he teased. "How positively lazy!"

"Oh, I don't think _lazy_ is quite what I had in mind, dear." She moved her body over so that she was now straddling his lap, her hands on the pillow over his shoulders as she kissed his nose playfully. "You see, love, for _years_ I had this image in my head of how I'd like to celebrate the birthday of the formidable … _kiss …_ Charles … _kiss …_ Carson. And it most definitely did _not_ involve a walk in the woods."

"No?" he asked, tilting his head slightly as his wife spread kisses over his cheek and down his neck, hitting that lovely spot just below his left ear.

"No," she murmured.

"I suppose it didn't involve a special breakfast, either?" he gasped, feeling her strategically reposition herself in his lap, brushing certain _things_ over certain other _things._

 _Oh, my,_ he thought.

"No." She'd moved her lips down to his chest, then back up the other side of his neck so that she could nibble his earlobe, sighing gratefully at the soft sounds he emitted.

His hands came up to hold her waist as he trailed his fingers downward. "I see. You seem to have had rather risqué ideas of how a curmudgeonly old butler should be treated on his birthday."

Elsie looked him deep in the eyes as she reached her hand down to caress him, his surprised gasp delighting her ears.

"Oh, you have no idea, Mr. Carson."

"I gather I'm about to find out," he whispered.

"I do believe so," she replied, capturing his lips in a kiss and then raising herself up … and then, ever-so-slowly, _down._

* * *

"Surprise! Happy Birthday!"

Charles stopped dead in his tracks three steps into the ballroom. If not for his decades' worth of remaining completely unexpressive in his demeanor while above stairs, his jaw would have been on the floor. The only visible indication of his astonishment was the sideways flick of his eyes toward Elsie's as she reached over to clasp his trembling fingers, steadying them as much as she could lest he feel embarrassed.

"Happy Birthday, Mr. Carson," Mr. Barrow said, approaching the couple. "I must say, it was quite an adventure planning this behind your back. It's a good thing your wife is such a plotter."

"Elsie?" Charles asked, completely forgetting to use her more formal title despite the fact that the entire family and half the staff were present.

"Happy Birthday," she whispered, a glint in her eyes.

"Carson."

Charles looked up to see Lady Mary approaching and was astonished as she squeezed his arm and placed a kiss to his cheek. "Happy Birthday, indeed! Mrs. Hughes has outdone herself."

Elsie nodded and smiled in acceptance of the compliment, and she squeezed Charles's hand before letting it go, leaving him to chat with his favorite of the Crawleys as she made her way over to Lady Grantham.

"Milady? Have you had a chance to inform the rest of the family about my plans?" she asked quietly.

"I have, Mrs. Hughes, but I thought I'd leave it to you to inform the rest of the staff, although I'm sure half of them must know by now." She smiled warmly and reached out to squeeze the older woman's hand. "You'll be missed so very, very much," she said, her eyes misting. "I hope you know that – I hope you _both_ know that – and both Lord Grantham and I insist that you not be strangers. Please do visit from time to time, and you absolutely _must_ attend the Servants' Ball – as our guests, not as staff."

"We'd be delighted to, Milady, thank you," Elsie replied, simply stunned at the warmth behind the gesture. They'd made their way past the uncomfortable business with the coat, but things had still been a bit stilted between them; however, today, for the first time since the eve of her wedding, Elsie felt that they'd left that all behind.

The rest of the party progressed smoothly, of course: the food was incredible, with Beryl having prepared all of Charles's favorite dishes, the music was perfectly to Charles's taste, and the family had gifted him (and, by extension, Elsie) with tickets to a symphony concert in London for the following month, which included an overnight stay at one of Lord Grantham's favorite hotels. Charles was astonished by their generosity, but it didn't surprise his wife in the slightest.

As they were taking a spin around the dance floor, Charles leaned over to whisper in his wife's ear, "I must say, Elsie, I'm impressed. And for Beryl's swan song, so to speak, she's done an even more remarkable job than usual. It's hard to believe it's her last event here at Downton Abbey. It's the end of an era."

"In more ways than one," Elsie finally admitted, causing her husband to pause a bit in his steps.

"How do you mean?"

Elsie led him off to the side of the dance floor and stilled him, placing her hand in his once again.

"I've not yet given you _my_ surprise," she said softly, and she smiled as her husband blushed, the tips of his ears turning red.

"You mean it wasn't my lovely, lazy morning in bed with my beautiful wife?" he whispered, and she laughed lightly.

"No, and I hope you'll not be cross with me when I tell you," she said, suddenly apprehensive about his reaction.

"Why would I ever be cross with you? Elsie … what have you done?"

"Well," she said, biting down on her lip, "what would you say to spending _every_ morning being lazy in bed with your lovely wife?" she whispered.

His brow furrowed as he tried to figure out her meaning, and she smiled as his eyes widened once it dawned on him.

"You mean …" he began, unable to form the words. He'd been hoping and praying that she'd retire with him, but had been afraid to voice his wishes, his deepest desire, lest he drag her into a lifestyle she simply wasn't ready for at that time.

"I do," she nodded, noticing the smile in his eyes. "You're not offended?" she teased.

His laugh rumbled in his chest. "I can assure you, Mrs. Carson, the very last thing in the world that I am at this moment is _offended._ You want to retire _with_ me? Truly?"

"Today is, in fact, my last day," she clarified. "This party was the very last thing on my duty roster."

Charles just shook his head slowly. He glanced around the room, seeing most everyone present involved in other conversations, dancing, serving, and laughing. He turned his attentions back to his wife and dipped his head to kiss her sweetly on the lips.

"It's the most wonderful gift I could have asked for, and much more than I ever dared to hope for," he murmured.

"I'm glad," Elsie smiled, squeezing his hand.

* * *

As the party was winding down, Charles found himself beside the punch table, watching his wife as she bid her farewells to the rest of the staff.

"It's going to be strange not having you both here tomorrow, Carson," Lord Grantham's voice sounded from beside him.

Charles turned to face him and saw the hand extended. Grasping it in his own, they shook firmly, warmly, conveying a multitude of things with that one handshake that neither man would ever be able to express in words.

"I offer my congratulations and my thanks, Carson. Both you and Mrs. Hu- Mrs. _Carson_ have cared for my family as if they were your own these past many years. There are no words to convey my gratitude."

"It has been our pleasure, Milord, and an honor – truly," Charles replied.

Lord Grantham turned his gaze back to the party, scanning the room, interested in how the staff had grouped and paired off: the Bateses, Daisy and Andrew, and the group surrounding Miss Baxter, who would be _Mrs._ Baxter in about an hour, offering their own quiet congratulations on her promotion.

"I see your wife has shared her news," he said happily, and Charles nodded.

"She has, Milord. It was quite a surprise to me, I can assure you, but a welcome one at that."

Lord Grantham chuckled softly. "I can tell. The only time I've ever seen you that happy was the day you were married. And it's evident to anyone who cares to notice that marriage definitely agrees with you."

Charles looked across the room at his wife, who was currently wrapped in an embrace from Anna. "I married my best friend, Milord. What could be better than that?"

Robert turned as Cora joined him by his side, her hand resting softly on his back.

"Nothing," he said simply, smiling at his wife and then looking back at Charles. "Absolutely _nothing."_

"Happy Birthday, Carson," Lady Grantham said. "We'll be sad to see you go, but I have it on good authority that you'll be returning from time to time as our guest."

Charles saw Elsie smile at him and offer an encouraging nod from across the room.

"It would be our pleasure," he said, echoing Elsie's thoughts from before. "Thank you, Milady."

* * *

Charles unlocked the door of the cottage and held it open for Elsie. She passed through and placed the small box of her belongings on the sofa, and Charles laid the larger box they'd packed on the floor by the coat rack. As Elsie moved over to the mirror to unpin her hat, Charles snuck up behind her and wrapped his hands around her waist.

"Thank you, Elsie, for the best birthday I've ever had in my entire life."

She placed the hat on the table and turned in his arms, standing on her tiptoes to give him a soft kiss.

"You're welcome, Charles. I will admit, I had originally planned a much smaller affair, but once I announced my plan to retire, Lady Grantham insisted that we have your party at the Abbey, a sort of double-celebration, as it were."

"Why does that not surprise me?" he chuckled.

"Well," Elsie said, reaching up to unknot his tie, "it _was_ rather nice returning home to a clean cottage, not having to spend _all_ my remaining energy cleaning and putting things away …"

"I see," he said, leaning down to kiss her temple. "So … this remaining energy of which you speak …"

Elsie took him by the hand and led him to the stairs. "Oh, well, I was hoping you might have some ideas."

He reached out and pulled her toward him, wrapping her firmly in his embrace.

"I love you so very much, Elsie, for so very many, wonderful reasons." He reached his hands up and caressed her cheeks with the backs of his hands – mercifully untrembling for the moment. "Despite the lovely way with which we began this day, and the lovely way I hope we are going to _end_ it, despite the party and the favorite foods and the music that you knew I would love, my absolute _favorite_ part of this day was hearing that I can look forward to spending every _remaining_ day I have by your side."

"Oh, Charles," she whispered, her eyes filling with happy tears. "I've loved you for over half my life, you know. But I think this birthday of yours is the happiest one _I've_ ever had, too."

And, with that, Charles pulled her face gently toward his own, kissing her softly, then more passionately, as the sun cast its deep, red glow over the last hours of his seventieth birthday.


End file.
